Violent Delights
by Burning November
Summary: "AKIHIKO, YOU DIRTY MAN! I'M COMING IN THERE NOW! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SLEEPING!"
1. Chapter 1

Around seven o'clock in the morning, the younger 18-year old boy picked up a book in his roommate's apartment loft, appearing to have two males on the cover and the name of his roommate printed under the title.

...It was somewhat suggestive-looking.

Within exactly 2.78 seconds of glancing at one page he had randomly flipped to, the book was whailed directly toward the ground in a 50 degree angle.

"AKIHIKO, YOU DIRTY MAN! I'M COMING IN THERE NOW! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SLEEPING!"

He marched right up to his roommate's room angrily (and excessively carelessly, as he had tripped on nothing other than his own two feet along the way) and with increasing testosterone levels and without thinking twice, he opened the door furiously and welcomed himself inside.

He really has a temper.

The boy glared at a particular human bodily-shaped lump under the purple covers in a stuffed animal-infested bed. This was the master's bedroom.

"AKIHIKO, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU. YOU'RE WRITING ABOUT ME AGAIN IN YOUR DIRTY BOOKS!"

...

Pure silence for five seconds.

...

Then,

A long groan was barely audible as the lump slowly lifted itself up from the bed. The purple covers soon revealed a gray-haired but young man of 28 years, complete with dark circles and bags under his eyes... and slow but extremely noticeable blinks every few seconds with his eyes fixated on an unknown object that probably appeared to be blurred to him.

...

More silence.

...

And then another long groan.

"ANSWER ME, DAMMIT! ARE YOU WRITING ABOUT ME AGAIN?"

Not only does he have a temper, but a lack of patience.

...

Another groan.

"AKIHIKO!"

Suddenly, the half asleep man reached over to the younger boy as if he didn't look like he had lost the ability to move. He latched onto the boy's chin and pulled it toward him, gazing sleepily but calmly into his eyes.

"You're so cute, Misaki."

Misaki didn't like this. It seemed to only anger him more with the proof of his furrowed eyebrows, squinted eyes, and constant avoidance of eye contact.

Then again, you could also tell that he did find pleasure in this act of affection.

"I... I asked... I ASKED YOU A QUESTION, AKIHIK-"

The yelling helplessly turned to silence with a kiss on the behalf of Akihiko.

Angrier than ever, (as if it were possible) Misaki pushed Akihiko's face completely away from his own.

He was about to go into _real_ rage mode.

Akihiko caught on though and knew he wouldn't be able to dodge the pressing question if he kept this up.

Glancing calmly around the room, he stated, "Misaki, I write about my fantasies. It satisfies me... seems to satisfy the readers as well."

Misaki wasn't satisfied one bit with this "answer". But it was as if a cat had suddenly caught the poor boy's tongue and he couldn't form a single syllable. In fact, the only movement on his face was his twitching eyebrows and gaping mouth.

And since Akihiko can slightly read minds (...okay, maybe he's just intelligent about these things), he joined in on the silence as if he knew that if he said one more thing, it would only raise the amount of steam raising from Misaki's head. And then he kissed the furious boy on the neck with his tender lips.

"Aki-"

Another kiss on the neck.

"Akihi-"

A kiss on the shoulder.

"AKIHI-"

A kiss on the nipple through his shirt.

And then a forceful push on Akihiko's arm. From yours truly.

"AKIHIKO, STOP! AND STOP WRITING ABOUT ME!"

"But I like to write about you, Misaki."

He looked at Misaki so bluntly, but as if he were as calm as ever.

...Contrary to Misaki's expression.

"It's damn gross though! You and your fantasies are disgusting!"

Another kiss on the nipple.

This time, though, Akihiko pulled the still outraged boy down to his purple bed and laid him down. Nearly smiling with a hint of satisfaction, Akihiko kissed the boy's nipple again after lifting his shirt up just enough.

Misaki was blushing.

Yet still in his rage mode.

...Rage mode always wins for Misaki.

So, Misaki shook Akihiko loose and marched out of the room with a few meaningless scolds and a "STOP WRITING ABOUT ME, AKIHIKO!".

The writer smirked.

He would never.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mm, Misaki... smells delicious."

Akihiko strutted toward the kitchen with nearly a full smile on his face. His hands that were delicately resting in his pant pockets were slowly drawn out, being placed on Misaki's shoulders as he stood in back of the chef. He then sniffed him.

So it wasn't the food he was talking about.

"Akihiko, the stove is lit right in front of me! Are you aware of the potential hazard here?"

Akihiko's smile only grew, and, in fact, he let out a small chuckle. He then planted a kiss on the cook's warm neck.

This kiss seemed to have had a certain power on Misaki... a blush began to appear on his cheeks.

"Akihi-"

As if nothing was holding him back, Akihiko slowly slid his hands down Misaki's chest, over his stomach and down through his-

The pasta began to boil over.

"OH, DAMMIT! Look what happened!" Misaki yelped as he quickly turned off the stove and removed the pot. Then, he looked helplessly for several towels that would (hopefully) dry up the mess that was staining the black stove.

Akihiko chuckled, just loud enough for Misaki to make it out, "Here, I'll help you-"

"You... YOU-"

"Me?"

"Look at what you just caused to happen!"

"...Do you want me to leave?"

Misaki just stared at the man in front of him with his overwhelmingly outraged but confused face. It seemed as though he didn't know how to respond.

Akihiko nodded his head as if he understood, "I'll be back. Call me if you need me."

The young boy moved his mouth as if he were trying to say something, but couldn't quite push it out. Not noticing this and with his eyes focused on the ground, Akihiko grabbed a jacket and left out the apartment door.

Misaki, yet again, had mixed feelings. Which meant he didn't know what to do.

Which meant he did nothing but gape at the front door for precisely eight seconds before trying to return his attention back to the mess that was in front of him.

The more literal one, that is.

So, as the confused boy washed away the stain on the stove, he thought to himself, _I wonder if I should apologize to him... it seemed like he was kind of hurt... Oh, but it's his damn fault this-! ..._Huff_._


End file.
